Never Gonna Give You Up
by em is for mememaster
Summary: Never gonna let you down, never gonna run around and desert you. Never gonna make you cry, never gonna say goodbye, never gonna tell a lie and hurt you. / Crack, for Fanfiction Imagination's Shipping Week 2.0
1. we're no strangers to love

title: **we're no strangers to love**

AU: 2d shapes

pairing: Squared OTP, Jordangel brOTP. I'm not planning this out as elaborately as I did last year, so not all days will feature all the pairings.

notes: More fluffy than cracky, but it's _Squared_.

* * *

Jordan the isosceles right triangle usually hated clubs, but the door to Four-sided Incarnations (FI for short) was curiously large and shaped like a pentagon, not a rectangle. In this world of rectangles, why was the door shaped like a pentagon? And why was the club called _four_ -sided incarnations if its door had five sides? He was intrigued.

"I hope I don't regret this," Jordan said with a sigh as he stepped inside.

Immediately, he was assaulted by a large shape who laughed and said, "You mean _ray_ gret?"

"Who are you?" Jordan asked, glaring at his attacker.

"I'm Ray, the administrator of this club. What's your name?"

Jordan blinked, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. He counted the sides again, but no, he hadn't made a mistake. Five sides, just like the door. "You're a pentagon."

"Yeah, I know. Your name?" Ray asked impatiently.

"It's Jordan," he said. "Why the hell is a pentagon the administrator of a club called Four-sided Incarnations?" This shape was probably just messing with him. Even if she was truly a member of the club, she didn't seem like administrator material anyway - more like lowest of trash material. He pushed the pentagon out of the way and -

Oh. _Oh_. Not a single rectangle was in sight. Circles, octagons, another pentagon, angles, arcs. But not a single shape with four sides.

"Welcome to FI," said Ray.

/

The more rational part of his mind was telling him that becoming a regular at FI was an exponentially bad idea. And yet, he kept returning. There was something about the club that made him want to stay, especially when he was tired of his rectangular classmates sending him curious looks. No one at FI gave him curious looks because no one at FI was a rectangle. He felt like he fit in. And yet...

"Something's missing," he told Angle, his clone. He and the 45-degree acute angle weren't actually identical, but they were close enough.

"What do you mean, something's missing?" Angle asked.

"That's the thing. I don't _know_. I just know that it's something."

Angle papped their clone. "I'm sure you'll figure it out."

/

It wasn't until he saw Ray with Hazel, her wife/sister and fellow pentagon, strolling around the club that it hit him - _that_ was what was missing. A fellow triangle. Sure, at FI he wasn't the only non four-sided incarnation. But he had yet to meet another shape with three sides, just like him. Angle had their sibling, Rachelly, and their son, Noah. Sydney the circle had Musa. Joan the arc had her friends Drift and Jay.

"I have nobody," Jordan said to Angle, who naturally was the first person he shared his epiphany with.

"You have me," said Angle in response. "You have us, all of us."

"Yeah!" said Ray, hopping in. "Everyone in this club is here for you!"

More voices chimed in. "We're all here for you, Jordan. All of us." Jordan looked around at the smiling faces of the shapes surrounding him and felt his loneliness ebb away. They were right. He did have them, the members of this trashy club. Sure, none of them had three sides just like him, but that didn't matter. These were his true friends, regardless.

/

And then came the day where the door to Four-sided Incarnations was _locked_.

Since the day he'd first found the club two months ago, the club had never, ever been closed. He tried to push it open, pull it open, slide it open, slam-his-entire-body-into-the-door it open. Nothing worked.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. His angles quivered with exertion as he put all his weight into shoving open the door. He yelled, he pounded, he banged, he ignored the strange looks from passer-bys. Eventually he gave up, leaning his head against the pentagon and fighting back tears. His home was gone.

And then, without warning, the door swung open, and he toppled through the frame, headfirst. Very graceful.

"What the **?" he screamed, when he stood up and the first thing he saw was Ray.

"I can - I can explain!" Ray said, but she was laughing and wheezing too hard for any such explanation to come out of her mouth. "Oh my God, _Jord_."

"Was this just some prank?" he yelled, resisting the urge to impale the pentagon. "Haha, very funny, you guys nearly gave me a - "

And then he saw her. Standing between N (a hexagon) and Hazel, standing anxiously on her hypothenuse, was a triangle. He stepped closer, eyes wide. And not just any triangle, an isosceles right triangle identical to him. An adorable, blushing triangle who wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Surprise!" Ray said. "See, that's the explanation, it was supposed to be a surprise."

Ignoring the pentagon, he kept his eyes on the other triangle. "I'm Jordan. What's your name?"

"Me - mels," she stuttered.

"Melsmels?" he repeated.

"Just Mels, unless you want to call me Melsmels, Jordjord," she said, finally looking up. She smiled. And it wasn't like he _needed_ another triangle in his life, but oh, he wanted that. He wanted to see that smile every day.

"Melsmels," he whispered. "Can I hug you?"

She nodded. "Yes, Jordjord."

He could hear someone squealing and whispering in the background, but all that was fading. He rolled onto one of his legs so that he made a perfect right angle with the floor beneath him and gently nudged Melsmels, who assumed the opposite position as Jordan, teetering onto one point.

He hugged her, snuggling up close and fitting perfectly with Melsmels, and for the first time, he thought he understood what it was like to have four sides.


	2. you know the rules and so do i

title: **you know the rules, and so do i**

AU: Powerpuff Girls/Wordgirl inspired rival superheroes AU

pairing: Raim OTP

* * *

Sugar... spice... and nothing nice. These were the ingredients chosen to create the most dip shih tzu superhero of all time. But Professor Irma accidentally added an extra ingredient to the concoction: Crack cocaine.

Thus, Ruff Buddy was born! Using her ultra superpowers, Ray dedicated her life to stopping crime and the forces of evil!

/

The city of Fanfictionimagi Nation! And it's an ordinary Saturday. Citizens happily romp around in the newly built park. Geese swim and play in the local pond. And in a square shaped house, Ray the Shih Tzu shrieks as Professor Irma chases after her with a razor.

"Aw, come on Ray!" Irma says, setting the razor down on her couch. "Listen to your owner! You need a haircut!"

"I wouldn't trust you with a razor if my life depended on it!" Ray barks back.

"How cute," Irma coos. She grabs the furry brown and white creature, wrestles her onto the lab table, and locks her into place. She tsks. "Don't struggle against those chains, Ray. That's cuffs, buddy. They're unbreakable, and they suppress your superpowers. I designed them myself."

"** you," Ray says.

Irma whistles as she retrieves the razor from the couch. "You need a haircut, Ray." She flicks at the tangled fur around her dog's jaw. "That's scruff, buddy. And it's got to go."

Ray opens her mouth (probably to bark some more rude obscenities), but before the Ruff Buddy hotline's automated voice screams, "EMERGENCY! DIP**! DIP**! DIP**!"

Irma sighs and releases Ray's constraints. "I guess you gotta go save the world or something. We'll finish your haircut later. Make me proud."

Ray doesn't even listen to whatever Irma's saying. As soon as her restraints are off, she's soaring out the window. Thank goodness for whatever monster is terrorizing the city right now. She'll remember this and properly reward it when she becomes the Queen of Hell.

/

In the park, Rachelly screams as what appears to be a giant blob of electricty rolls through the town, frying everything in its path.

"We're doomed!" yells Hazel. All four of the Freen children - Hazel, Angel, Sophie, and Rachelly - begin panicking, running around the park in circles.

"Wait!" shouts Sydney, trying to calm her children down. "Look at the sky! Is it a bird? Is it a plane?"

"That's Ruff Buddy," Angel moans. Their least favorite superhero has come to save the day from the energy monster.

/

Alone with the lights off and curtains closed in his basement, Marz fiddles with the iPhone that one of his great-great-great-great-great (and who knows how many more greats?) grandchildren gave him for his 8043599273th birthday. "I don't understand... I just don't understand this technology."

The energy monster rampages outside. Marz jams a third cord into his phone, hoping that will solve his problem, and wonders why his outlets are growing strangely.

/

Ruff Buddy flies straight for the energy monster. "Take this!" she cries, punching the monster in the gut. The monster keels.

"Fear not, citizens of Fanfictionimagi Nation! I have come to protect you!" Ray says, puffing out her little shih tzu chest. "With me on the job, there's no way - "

At that moment, the energy monster stands back up and grabs Ray, nearly suffocating her in its huge fist. Thanks to her superpowers, Ray can't be electrocuted, but she still needs to breathe. Must... escape... soon...

Suddenly, the hand that was clutching her dissolves, and it's only thanks to her lightning fast reflexes that she doesn't end up as a pancake on the ground. She hovers above the ground, disoriented and confused. The energy monster is gone! But how? And is that... _cheering_ she hears below? What is going on?

"You alright, sweetheart?" She looks up to see a snowy white dog with a black cape, flying high above the crowds. Another superhero? But no! This is her city, not his! She immediately flies up to his level and tries to clear her head. The energy monster really is gone. And the crowds really are cheering. Not for her, but for this... other thing. She looks down and even sees the Freens - the Freens, that are supposed to be _her_ loyal fans! - cheering for her enemy. Well, Angel never really liked her very much in the first place, but Sydney and Rachelly and Sophie and even Hazel? Et tu, Brute?

"Who the hell are you?" she demands, looking back up and glaring at the dog that has ruined everything.

He winks. "I'm One Direction."

/

One Direction. What a stupid name for a stupid dog. She hates him, but she agrees when One Direction offers to take her on a stroll through the park because she needs to interrogate him. Yes, she must find out more about him so that she can exploit all of his weaknesses and drive him out...

Also, she doesn't want to go home because Professor Irma will be waiting with that razor.

"What's your name?" One Direction asks.

"Ruff Buddy," Ray replies.

"No, I meant your _real_ name," he says.

Ray sniffs. "That's top secret."

"Well, I'll tell you mine. It's Aim." He chuckles. "Get it? Because aim and direction are synonyms according to thesaurus dot com." When Ray doesn't say anything, he adds, "Aw, come on. You don't want me to call you Ruff Buddy for the rest of your life?"

Goddammit, he's got her there. She hates the name Ruff Buddy. Screw Professor Irma, the one who came up with that name. "It's Rayna," she says with a sigh. "Ray for short."

"Ray," says Aim. "That's a beautiful name. For a beautiful dog." He blushes.

What the **? Is he trying to flirt with her or something? She narrows her eyes warily. "Listen up Aim, we need to settle this. This is my city. There can only be one super puppy. I was here first, so you have to gtfo."

"We can share the city," Aim offers.

Ray scowls. "I don't share!"

Aim raises his paw to his chin, pondering. "Well, I don't want to gtfo just because you were here first. I did fight that energy monster, and the people love me." He slams his paw onto the ground. "There's only one way this can be settled. A chess match."

Chess? She laughs maniacally inside. She's absolutely brilliant at chess, but Aim doesn't know that. "Alright then," she says coolly. "Winner stays, loser leaves." This is going to be easy.

Aim smirks and takes an entire chess set out of his cape. An entire chess set! Who keeps an entire chess set in his cape?

Maybe this won't be as easy as she thought.

/

Playing chess with Aim is surprisingly... enjoyable. She goes first as the white team. The game moves slowly (frustratingly slowly; why does Aim take so long to think?), but they chat along the way. He's actually an interesting person to talk to.

Okay, she did not just think that.

She looks up from the chessboard and is surprised to see that the sun is setting. Had they really spent that much time playing chess together?

Aim seems to have noticed the same thing as she because he says, "I think I have to go. My roommate is waiting for me. We'll finish this game tomorrow?"

She's actually disappointed, but she acts chill. "Yeah, we'll finish this game tomorrow. I'm busy tomorrow morning summoning demons, but I think I'm free for the evening. You better come here at 6 PM sharp, in this exact place."

"I won't be late," he promises.

/

He's late.

It's 6:00, and the boy is not here.

Damn that boy. And she was winning, too! She scratches at the ground angrily. She hadn't endured Irma's razor and all of Irma's teasing just for Aim to be late.

Is he not coming?

He's not here.

Has he forgotten about her?

He's not coming.

How could he do this to her? How could he make her care about him enough, enough so that she _misses_ him, and then abandon her?

She'd thought he cared about her too.

He's not here, he's not coming, he's betrayed her just like the Freens -

"Ready to play?" Aim asks, ambling into the park. He's walking. He has the nerve to walk? He should be running, huffing and puffing, and apologizing!

"You're late!" she screams. "It's 6:01!"

"I'm sorry," Aim says. "I didn't mean to make you wait."

The genuinity in his apology makes her pause. "I thought you weren't coming," she says, her anger dissipating.

"Ray," Aim says, his voice soft. "I would never do that. I would never give you up, never let you down, never run around and desert you."

She's not crying, she's not crying, her eyeballs are just sweating. She wipes off her tears with her paw.

"By the way, I like the haircut," Aim says, with another wink.

This dog is going to be the death of her. "Let's share the city," she blurts out. "We can be superheroes together."

Aim grins, and God, he's just so cute. "Only if we get to be a battle couple."

"Alright." Did he - did he just ask her out? And did she just agree? What was she thinking? But Aim presses his paw against hers, and all those thoughts go flying out the window. Aim just asked her out, and she just accepted. The chess game forgotten, she and Aim run off into the sunset.


	3. a full commitment's what i'm thinking of

title: **a full commitment's what i'm thinking of**

AU: Spy

pairing: Rayzel brOTP, Rayzel OTP

* * *

Agent Hazel Mallorn of the Focal Intelligence Agency (FIA) had just received her biggest mission yet: to overthrow and assassinate Ray Novak, the current, supposedly corrupt head of the FIA. It would be pretty difficult, according to Agent Angel, who had assigned her the mission. Ray Novak was under a dozen or so levels of protection on any given day.

"And thus," Angel concluded, "it's very likely you could die on this mission. It's extremely risky, and I would understand if you don't want to undertake it. Sydney and Marz, our other top-performing agents, have already turned it down."

Hazel shook her head. She had ingrained within her a strong sense of justice - and more importantly, she was broke. She _needed_ the large sum that Angel was offering her. "No, I'll do it," she insisted.

Angel nodded solemnly and handed Hazel a small slip of paper. "I'm afraid I won't be able to talk to you after this. It would be too risky. But I'll try my best to send you more help. Good luck, Agent Hazel." They saluted.

Hazel saluted back, the piece of paper clutched in her other fist. What exactly was she getting into?

/

The piece of paper only had an address written on it, and as soon as Hazel had memorized the words, she shredded the sheet and fed it to her cat, Tux. She wasn't really sure if that was healthy, but Tux didn't seem to mind.

Bright and early in the morning two days later, after convincing Irma to take her shift, she found herself in front of a seedy looking book shop located at the address that Angel had given her. Was this really the place? Well, there was only one way to find out. She pushed the door open, coughing at the dust that single action kicked up. God, it was dirty in here.

"Hello? Is anybody here?" she asked, startling when the door closed with a loud _bang_ behind her. Great, just great. "Someone home?"

"Here!" a voice finally replied. A short teenage girl scurried out from behind one of the bookshelves. She was wearing a large shiny name tag that read _Brooke_. "Sorry, who are you?"

"Hazazel," Hazel answered, giving the girl her very clever alias rather than her true name. "Um, Angel sent me here?" Was it okay to mention Angel? Maybe she shouldn't have mentioned Angel.

"Oh, my mother sent you here?" another voice asked. A boy whose tag read _Noah_ stepped out from behind a different bookshelf. "Oh, right, I remember now. Mom said something about sending us a mission. They wrote me a letter. Where's the letter? Brooke, where did you put the letter?";

"You told me to burn it, remember?" Brooke said, sounding exasperated. "You really need to be more responsible with your things, you sweet summer child."

" _You're_ the sweet summer child," Noah shot back.

Hazel coughed to remind the two children that she was still here. Noah turned around.

"Right," he said. "Let's get down to business. Mom sent you here so that I could brief you on the plan in a private place. Also, so that I could turn you into a hazelnut."

"Say what?" The first part she understood. The second part... not so much.

"Noah, let's take her to the lab," said Brooke.

/

The lab turned out to be nothing more than a dusty, dim basement with a couple test tubes lying around on a cluttered table.

"Alright, the plan," said Noah, once the doors and windows were all closed. He and Brooke seemed to take security very seriously. The only light came from the flashlight that Noah aimed below his chin. To the average person, this would be rather disconcerting, but Hazel was a professional FIA spy. She wasn't afraid. In fact, she was very excited.

Brooke yanked the flashlight from Noah. Noah took it back. The two grappled with the flashlight for a while - "Noah, I'm going to talk first." "Brooke, I'm better at explaining stuff anyway." "You drive me bananas!" "Brooke!"

Hazel fake-coughed for the second time that day. Noah and Brooke froze, both of their hands on their flashlights. After another cough from Hazel, Noah reluctantly drew off his fingers. Brooke happily shone the flashlight under her chin and began talking.

"Alright. So this is the genius plan concoted by Angel. It's going to be really great! We are going to turn you into a superhero with one power: the ability to turn into a hazelnut on command. You are going to be... Hazelnut Girl! Doesn't that have quite the ring to it? And you're not just going to be any hazelnut - you're going to be a poisonous hazelnut. So what you got to do is sneak into the kitchen and convince Ray Novak to eat you. I'm under the impression that Miss Novak very much enjoys a good hazelnut bread, so maybe you should get baked or something."

"Hashtag 420 blaze it," Noah muttered from under his breath.

Brooke continued, as if Noah hadn't said anything at all. "And then Ray will promptly be poisoned, and die! Isn't that a genius plan?"

She nodded. It seemed absolutely brilliant. She couldn't think of a single thing wrong with it. Well, except for one thing. "Wait, if Ray eats me, how will I get out? Am I just going to die too?"

"Angel did tell you there was a large risk of death, didn't they?" Noah asked.

"Well, yeah, they said large risk, not this is an almost 100% risk," Hazel pointed out. She pondered this almost 100% risk and then declared, "Pay me double, and I'll still take the mission."

"Done, Hazel. Noah and I will convince Angel," said Brooke. Her head was beneath the table, so her voice was slightly muffled. But her voice was clear as she popped back up a second later with what appeared to be a sewing kit. "Ready to turn into a hazelnut?"

/

It took Hazel a couple tries to get used to being Hazelnut Girl. Being a hazelnut was about as difficult as it sounded. First of all, she was fragile, even though her shell tried to protect her. Second, the only way she could move was by rolling around everywhere. Third, she was very small, and it took her a while to get used to the new perspective. She could talk, at least, because everyone agreed that would be convenient. Unfortunately, her voice was tiny and high, and she had to yell everything for anyone to hear her.

By then, it was afternoon, and after hastily thanking the pair, she ran back to the FIA. She'd promised Irma that she would return to her shift by lunch time.

/

Technically she had all the time in the world to execute her plan, but Angel wanted it done within the month. And Hazel, personally, wanted to challenge herself. She wanted it done within the week. Which meant she had to work very fast.

Unfortunately, the next day, two dozen rabbits escaped their cages, and Hazel was stuck running all over the FIA, chasing bunnies. It took her two days to find and bag every single rabbit (that last one was really tricky), but her schedule was free again by Sunday. So early that morning, she found where the FIA kitchens were and, after turning herself into a hazelnut, covertly rolled in and waited to be noticed.

The head chef, Hilda, who was cooking pasta with a blanket around their shoulders for some reason, did not notice Hazel. She even jumped noisily a few times to catch their attention, but it didn't work. She rolled, tilting herself slightly upward so that she could see the clock, and noticed that fifteen whole minutes had passed. And Chef Hilda hadn't removed themself from their Netflix show.

"** this," Hazel grumbled, about to leave. Maybe she would try again tomorrow.

"Tell me about it," said a feminine voice. Hazel whirled around in surprise, but she couldn't find the source of the voice. It certainly wasn't coming from Chef Hilda.

"Up here!" the voice said. Hazel looked up at the counter directly above her and saw a dark brown loaf of bread, waving around. That was the source of the voice? A loaf of _bread_? Then again, she was a talking hazelnut... she wasn't really one to judge.

"Oh, I see you," said Hazel.

The loaf of bread nodded (if that was possible). "Sorry about Chef Hilda. They're not going to notice you, by the way. I've been here for two days, and they never noticed me. I'm so glad you came. I was going out of my mind not having anyone else to talk to. Think you can get up here?"

Two days in boredom and isolation. That sounded horrid. Hazel was glad that such a thing didn't happen to her. Although that did raise up many questions about this loaf of bread. Was she a human disguised as a food, just like her? If so, why was she here? Was she also on a secret spy mission? Maybe the loaf was here to help her assassinate Ray. Angel did say they were trying to get her more help. Yeah, that made sense. Ray's favorite food was hazelnut bread, after all. She was the hazelnut, and here was the bread. Her partner in crime.

"I can get up there," she said with confidence. It took some time and a lot of nutty Parkour, but she managed to climb up the counter and situated herself beside the loaf of bread. Chef Hilda still hadn't noticed anything.

Up close, the bread looked soft and pillowy. The Parkour had worn her out. The truth was, she was exhausted, and the bread was looking very inviting.

"Can I sleep against you?" Hazel asked.

"Yeah, sure, if I can sleep _with_ you," the loaf replied in a rather suggestive tone.

If Hazel wasn't a nut right now, she would have blushed. "Thanks," she said, unsure of how else to respond to such a statement. She rolled over, leaned against the plushiest part she could find, and promptly fell asleep.

/

When Hazel woke up, the kitchen was on fire, and Chef Hilda was nowhere to be found. The fire hadn't reached her counter yet, but it was spreading rapidly. Much too rapidly for her tastes.

"Wake up!" she shrieked to her companion, screaming as loudly as she could. The loaf snored. Taking a deep breath, Hazel braced herself and slammed herself into the floury food. "Wake! Up!"

With a yell, the bread woke up. "Wha - what's wro - " And then she saw the fire. "Oh my God. We have to get out of here!" She rolled over the edge of the counter, on the opposite side from the fire, and jumped off. "Come on, Nut! Jump! I'll catch you, okay?"

Why was she trusting her life to this loaf? She rolled over to the edge and peered down. It was quite the drop. If Bread missed, then well, Hazel could just crack open. She could picture her guts splayed on the ground right now.

Wait a minute. There was an obvious solution here that she was missing, and it was to just turn back into a human and put out the fire. Just as she had done in training, she concentrated on transforming, but the image of nut guts kept invading her mind. Oh God. _She couldn't transform_. And with each second that passed in which she didn't transform, she only grew more and more panicked. This was it. This was how she was going to die: not with a bang, but in this mundane kitchen fire.

"What are you waiting for?" Bread screamed below. "Jump, you nut! I'll catch you, I promise! Now come on!"

She looked down at Bread, then looked behind at the roaring fire. She thought about how soft and pillowy Bread had been last night, and she made a quick decision. Closing her eyes, she jumped -

And landed safely within Bread's rolls. She only had half a second to feel relieved, however, because the fire was still roaring, and her rational agent senses returned. She and Bread had to run and get somewhere safe, ASAP. She rolled off of Bread, and then the two of them rolled across the floor, towards the back door with the cat flap.

"We have to do this together," Hazel said. "On one, two, thr - "

Suddenly, the entire door swung open towards them. Hazel quickly rolled out of the way, slamming into Bread and hoping that she had made it safely as well, to avoid being crushed by two human feet. Chef Hilda had returned, panting, with a fire extinguisher. A loud spray and a cloud of white smoke later, the fire was under control, and everyone had made it out safely - including Bread.

The fire gone, Chef Hilda yawned and exited, closing the door behind them. Hazel looked up at the clock and noted that it was three in the morning. If she wasn't a nut, she would've probably yawned too. She was exhausted, but there was something she had to do first.

"Thanks for saving my life," Hazel said to Bread. "You know, by catching me and stuff."

"No big deal," said Bread. "You saved my life by waking me up, anyway. I had to pay you back." She paused. "How am I going to get back up that counter?"

"How did you get up it originally?" Hazel asked, curious.

"I sat on it in my human form and then turned into a loaf of bread. **! I just blew my cover. Well, you already knew I wasn't actually a regular loaf of bread, right? Considering I talk and stuff?"

Hazel nodded. "Yeah, I'd figured that out. Since I know, I guess I should tell you something too. I also have a human form." She tilted, another question entering her mind. "I just realized, I don't even know your name. I have to stop referring to you as Bread in my mind. What's your name? Mine's Hazel."

"Ray," the bread responded.

"Oh, cool." Wait a minute. _Ray_. Ray as in Ray Novak? Ray as in the woman she was hired to kill? That Ray? No! But Bread was... Bread was soft and pillowy and saved her life and - brown. Bread was brown. Oh God. How had she not noticed before? Bread was rye bread. _Rai_ bread. Ray.

"I caught whiff of an assassination plot against me, so I disguised myself as bread. One of my most brilliant plans, if I do say so myself," Ray explained. "Why are you here, Hazel?"

She looked at Ray, who was completely unaware, and thought that she could do it right here, if she acted fast enough. She could turn back into a human, grab a knife, and spear that crusty flesh. But she didn't want to. Somehow, she had stepped right into one of the cheesiest tropes in the business: falling for the target.

"I was sent here to kill you," she said, honestly. At this, Ray stumbled behind and transformed into human form. She was so much... younger than Hazel had expected.

"But I don't want to anymore!" she added hastily, turning into her human form as well. She grabbed both of Ray's wrists to prevent her from grabbing a kitchen knife or something. "No amount of money could convince me to assassinate you, Bread."

Ray stared into her eyes. "I believe you, Nut," she replied.

Hazel released Ray's wrists and took her hand. "I expect I'll be getting a raise for sparing your life though, right? Or at least a big box of bagels?"

Ray laughed and said, in that same suggestive tone she had used earlier as Bread, "It's a date."


	4. you wouldn't get this from any other guy

title: **you wouldn't get this from any other guy**

AU: Sydney won American Idol

pairing: Sydsa OTP, Musa/Marz (Murz? Masa?) brOTP

notes: Possibly even more fluffy than the Squared fic. Prepare toothbrushes.

* * *

"Oh my God, I'm so thirsty," said Sydney, the moment she ran off stage. She flicked her shoulder-length brown hair out of her eyes and gratefully accepted a drink from Sophie, her friend/back-up singer/assistant. She downed a few gulps. "I was thirsty by like, the third song, but I didn't want to interrupt the flow or anything. My voice didn't sound raspy or dry, right?"

"We couldn't even tell anything was wrong," Sophie said reassuringly, handing Sydney a second bottle and disposing of the empty first one. "You sounded great, Sydney, as always. Like a true A-list star."

"Thanks," she said. She finished her second bottle. "Although you know I'm not really on the A-list, Sophie. More like the F-list. Hardly anyone knows me." She sighs. "The seats weren't even full tonight."

"Don't put yourself down like that," said Sophie. "You have great reviews. Muffin from **ingoed Ipusorgameofthrones said that you were a joy to watch and had a superb voice. And it's true! Otherwise you wouldn't have won American Idol two years ago."

"True, but I don't have _enough_ reviews," Sydney said with a sad groan. "In the past two years, I've basically faded into obscurity. I haven't had a hot single in ages, and nobody knows who I am anymore."

"Don't be such a downer!" said Sophie, shaking her head. "You know what, not anymore. I found you a new songwriter. Her name's Musa, and she's absolutely fantastic. I promise you, by advertising hot singles in your area, you'll be raking in all those reviews in no time!"

/

Sydney was skeptical about this "Musa" person, but she tried to keep an open mind as she waited in the studio the next morning. She played a few chords on the piano to pass the time while her new songwriter took her sweet time arriving.

Musa came in five minutes late, huffing and puffing. "Sorry I'm late! I overslept, and I got stuck in traffic, and then there was a little girl's soul I had to steal, you know, anyway - I'm really, really sorry."

"Uh, it's alright," she said, a bit awkwardly. "You're here now."

Musa nodded. "That's exactly right." Without asking, she plopped down beside Sydney on the piano bench and squeezed in close. Her heartbeat suddenly sped up, like she was sixteen again or something.

"So, tell me a little bit about your vision for your upcoming album, and I'll try to write you a song that fits," Musa prompted.

"Well, _Sydz Bop_ is an album about two things. Syd - that's me - and uh, bop. Which is why it's called _Sydz Bop_... yeah, I have no idea what I'm doing." Her tongue and mind couldn't seem to properly work with Musa around. She hung her head in shame.

The songwriter laughed, a warm and comforting sound. "It's alright, Sydney. Many artists don't know where to go at first. That's why I'm here. I have to say, I loved your EP, _Sydney Lou Who_. It perfectly captured the theme of growing up, dealing with drastic changes, and being a teenager. It was so raw and honest. Of course we can't have _Sydz Bop_ and _Sydney Lou Who_ sound exactly the same; after all, you're not exactly the same person. But I want to write an album with the same raw honesty. Something that reflects who you are and where you are in life. Something true and genuine and beautiful."

Whoa. Sydney was beginning to understand why Sophie was so sure about this; Musa really sounded like she knew what she was doing. Too bad Sydney didn't. "Um... I... uh..."

"Oh dear," said Musa, sensing her confusion. "Looks like we're in more trouble than I thought. It's time to bring out the heavy artillery."

/

'Heavy artillery' turned out to refer to a short girl wearing a thick brown trenchcoat, hanging around some shady street corner. Musa walked through the street towards the shady trenchcoat person with confidence, but Sydney felt a bit anxious. She'd never been in this part of town before, and she'd only met Musa a few minutes ago. For all she knew, Musa could be kidnapping her... luring her somewhere empty to do who-knows-what her... and this trenchcoat person could be dangerous...

And then Musa grabbed her hand and smiled. "Come on, Sydney. Don't lag behind!" Sydney stared at their entwined hands, letting Musa drag her around, and her heart did that racing-at-a-100mph thing again.

"Zadi, long time, no see!" Musa exclaimed, waving at the trenchcoat person.

The trenchcoat person - Zadi - lifted her head and looked right past Musa, staring at Sydney. "Hey kid," she said, opening up the coat to reveal dozens - hundreds? - of pieces of paper. "Want some prompts?"

"Hit her up, Zadi," said Musa, before Sydney could say anything.

"Okee dokee," said Zadi, taking a single slip of paper out of her coat. She took a deep breath and then began speaking in rapid-fire English, like an auctioneer. "Home! Beans! Scissors! A is afraid of dentists, B is a dentist. Cinderella's step-sister befriends a cat. Chess! A is a robot, B is a scientist, and C is a John Green protagonist (TM). Pogo sticks! Your OTP at Hogwarts. Sunflower seeds take over the world; A is a sunflower, and B is a human. Sea shells! I'm always promiscuous for ice cream!"

"I think that's good, Zadi," said Musa. She turned to Sydney. "Feeling inspired, yet?"

"Not really," Sydney said, a little overwhelmed.

"Thanks anyway, Zadi," said Musa. She tilted her head. "Don't be discouraged, Sydney. I have plenty of tricks up my sleeve."

/

Musa's trick took her to the backroom of a bar, where an old man was crouched over a laptop while sipping wine.

"Marz, are you sure you should be doing that?" Musa asked. "Drinking while working is bad practice."

The old man turned around and stood up straight. (Or at least, he tried to. His posture wasn't that great.) "Musa!" he exclaimed, setting down his wine and giving her a hug. Sydney tried not to feel jealous. "What do I owe the pleasure of this visit to?"

"Well Marz, this is Sydney. Sydney, this is my friend Marz. He's a really great writer. Are you writing right now, Marz? Is that what you're doing on that laptop?" Musa asked.

"Actually, no," said Marz. His eyes grew wide. "Wait, you can write on laptops? Technology these days..."

"Marz," said Musa in an exasperated tone. "I know you're from the Stone Age and all, but computers aren't that difficult to understand."

"That's what Peter said," said Marz, scratching his head. "This is his, by the way. He wanted me to beta test some program he coded on this, but I couldn't figure it out. So far all I've been able to do is make that." He pointed at what Sydney had initially just assumed to be a dark bowl. Upon closer inspection, however, she realized that the bowl was made of hair. How very strange.

"What is this?" Musa picked the object up, scrutinizing it from all sides in fascination. "You cloned Peter's bowl haircut? How did you do that with a laptop?"

"I... don't know."

"Um anyway," said Sydney, changing the subject, "I just wanted some advice for writing songs. Since I'm kind of stuck."

"Right, that I can do," said Marz. He put his hand on Sydney's shoulder, looked her in the eye, and said, "Follow your heart."

"Did that motivate you?" Musa asked, as soon as Marz was done talking. Sydney shook her head, deflating, but Musa was still full of spirit. "You know what you need? I think you need a break."

/

They ended up going to the amusement park. They rode everything from the children's carousel to the tallest rollercoaster in all the country together, where Sydney couldn't tell if her rapid heartbeat came from adrenaline or from Musa. They played carnival games, where she actually won a large stuffed moose. They splurged on ice cream and sweet funnel cakes, and she held her breath as Musa wiped powdered sugar off the corner of her lip.

At the end of the night, as they watched the fireworks together, Musa asked, "Thought of anything you want to write about yet?"

Sydney looked at the bright lights reflecting off of Musa's face and dug deep inside, but found nothing. She shook her head.

Musa didn't look the slightest bit fazed or disappointed. "Well, I guess there's still one last place we could try before we go to sleep..."

/

Karaoke. "Maybe listening and singing along to other famous artists will get your juices pumping. Plus, this place is open 24/7."

It was 10:30 PM by then, and she was exhausted. Musa, on the other hand, grabbed the mic and began singing. She wasn't exactly the greatest singer in the world, but her energy was infectious, and she made Sydney laugh out loud at several points.

"Your turn," Musa said at the end of the song. "I made a fool of myself for you, so I expect something at least equally as good."

She took the mic with a bit of an uncharacteristic shyness. She performed for a living - had been performing for a living for two years - but this was Musa, _just_ her and Musa, and it felt strangely... intimate. The apprehensiveness left as soon as she opened her mouth and sang the first note. She relaxed, and she knew: this was what she was meant to do. She was meant to sing, to dance, to be with Musa.

Before she knew it, it was past midnight, and she and Musa were sprawled on the couch together, half-asleep.

"Found your muse yet?" Musa asked, playing with her hair.

She closed her eyes and thought about the day: she thought about Zadi's prompts, Marz's advice, the golden Ferris wheel, Musa's smile and laugh, her own speeding heartbeat. "No," she says, honestly. "I found something even better: a Musa."

* * *

Lol Zadi, sorry that I butchered your prompts. I know they're actually much better than that! Same goes to you, Marz. I know your advice is much better than that! And you're not even that old.


	5. i just wanna tell you how i'm feeling

title: **i just wanna tell you how i'm feeling**

AU: teeth

pairing: Angel/Angel OTP, Irmangel brOTP

* * *

It all begins when Irma the Incisor tells them, "I heard from a tooth, who heard from a tooth, who heard from a tooth that there's another vampire fang that looks just like you, on the opposite side of the mouth! Isn't that cool?"

Angel's first reaction is to be offended. "That's ridiculous. There is only one of me. I'm unique."

"I'm serious, Angel!" Irma insists. "There's another incisor like me on the other side too. This mouth we're in - it's symmetrical!"

"You can't prove that," Angel says. It's true: as teeth, they're rooted into one position for the entirety of their lives. Angel tries their best to peer past Irma to see what is beyond her, but alas, they can't see anything apart from Irma's fat white mass. "I'm special." And that's the end of the conversation.

/

Until Irma brings up the topic again, a few days later. "I heard from a tooth, who heard from a tooth, who heard from a tooth that the other vampire fang doesn't believe that you exist either! Also, I got confirmation that the other tooth's name is also Angel, and they also insist that they're special."

Angel tries to turn away but cannot, because they are a tooth. "I still don't believe you. Is this just another meme, Irma?"

Irma's stricken. "No!" she exclaims, very emphatically. That's the problem with being a (self-proclaimed) mememaster: no one believes you when you're being serious.

"I don't believe you. Let's say that this tooth exists. Even if they're similar to me, they can't be _exactly me_. There's no way that they're as sharp as me, or as cute as me, or as flawless as me in general." If they had hair, they would flip it at this point. And that's the end of the conversation.

/

Until Irma brings up the topic again, a few days later. "I heard from a tooth, who heard from a tooth, who heard from a tooth that Angel told me to tell you this." They take a deep breath. "Oh, I bet you're real sharp. You could puncture the hull of an empire-class Fire Nation battleship, leaving thousands to drown at sea, because you're so sharp."

"Wtf, I would never say that," Angel says. "Now I know you're just quoting memes. That seriously sounds like something _you_ would say."

"I swear, I'm not making this up!" Irma wails.

"Now you're going to tell me that the other Angel said _salty_ or something like that."

"I'm not!"

Angel tries their best to glare at the other tooth. Since they don't have eyes, that doesn't really work, but they do succeed at making Irma squirm a bit. An idea suddenly pops into existence.

"Tell the other Angel this," Angel commands. "Yeah, I'm sharp. Don't hurt yourself. Otherwise you might not be performing at your best later. Like in the bedroom."

Irma does a double take. That obviously wasn't what she was expecting. "Exactly like that?"

Angel rocks back and forth to signal a nod. And that's the end of the conversation - just for now.

/

Angel impatiently waits for a response, and they receive one, much more quickly this time. Within a few minutes, Irma quips, "I heard from a tooth, who heard from a - "

"Get to the point, Irma," Angel interrupts.

"Rude," says the incisor. "Well, the other Angel told me that they're not salty, but they know something that is."

"Salty? Seriously? I called it. I called out this phony Angel," the fang grumbles. "Honestly, Irma, if this is your way of hitting on me, it's the worst possible way you could do such a thing."

"Ew, gross," Irma says. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm not lying?"

Angel ponders for a moment to come up with an adequate response for this clear imposter. "Well tell the other Angel that I am better than them. I am above them, like sexually. I am top."

/

This sort of exchange continues for the next few hours -

"The other Angel says that line was subpar and anticlimactic, but they can give you the climax you want."

"Tell the other Angel to find something better do with their life, like me."

"The other Angel says they'll do you alright, and that they have a big **."

"They're running out of ideas, aren't they? Well tell them that I could do this all day. It isn't hard at all, but I know something that is."

"The other Angel says they're not running out of ideas at all. But if you're feeling a little off, they could turn you on."

"Tell the other Angel to give up on this. I'm going to win this little contest. Just like I've won their heart."

"The other Angel says they love you."

"Tell the other - " _Wait, what?_ That's not even a pick-up line! What if they meant it? It's one thing to exchange silly pick-up lines that none of them really mean, but goddamn, did the other Angel actual fall in love with them? That's totally understandable, considering how flawless they are, but they're not ready for this kind of relationship! Now this is awkward. Really awkward. What are they supposed to do? Well, this is just solid proof that the other Angel is a total fake. The real Angel would never do such a thing.

There's a long pause. A very, very long pause. A very, very awkward pause.

"The other Angel says that they'll take the fact that you're speechless as pretty solid proof that they're the actual victor of this round," Irma reports, breaking the silence.

That little - that little **! That's it, they're done. They're done with this whole exchange. Whatever. Let them win.

Well played, Angel.

* * *

Most of the [fang voice]s in this fic are actual [fang voice]s used by forumers because I was 2 laz to come up with my own. So credit goes to those original users (mostly Joan lol).


	6. gotta make you understand

title: **gotta make you understand**

AU: Titanic. Loosely based on the James Cameron movie, but I took a lot of liberties. I also took a TON of historical/scientific liberties. Whatever. It's crack.

pairing: Ray/Trashcan (aka Trayshcan.)

* * *

 **1996**

This is it. After years of hard work, research, and groveling for funds, this is _it_. Today is the day that she and Angel find the Fabled Ivory gemstone.

"Are you ready for this, Hazel?" Angel asks, their voice echoing in Hazel's helmet.

"Oh, I've been ready for five years. I can't wait until I get the FI in my hands," Hazel says dreamily. She keeps her eyes on the view outside and fingers pressed against the window. And then she sees it - she's the first person to see it, in fact - the ruins of the _Titanic_ , a mountain under the sea.

"Wow," Angel says, wrinkling their nose. "It's even bigger of a wreck than I thought it would be."

Hazel is much more awed by the sight. "It's beautiful." She grabs the joystick and sends out Probe 0, the sheep-shaped robot responsible for retrieving the safe hidden deep within the boat. While Hazel drives the probe, Angel looks at the screen, monitoring the robot's health. They have to make sure that it stays safe, even with the cold temperatures and crushing pressure.

"Bingo," Hazel says, as Probe 0 returns with the safe in its grasps. As Angel drives the submarine back up toward the surface, Hazel makes sure that the sheep probe is trailing safely behind.

/

Once on the surface of the boat, Hazel and Angel greedily run to the safe. Hazel's all for busting it open, but Angel restrains her. They grab a wrench and carefully pry the safe open, being careful not to destroy anything. Before they can peer inside its cold metal heart, however, Hazel pushes them out of the way and looks in and sees -

Nothing.

She blinks. She must be dreaming. This can't be so. She worked for five years for this. But her eyes aren't lying.

The FI is missing.

"What's wrong?" Angel asks. They push Hazel out of the way and peer in. "Oh **."

"Yeah," Hazel says, groaning. What are they going to do? What are they going to tell their sponsors? Suddenly, she feels a light tap on her shoulder and sees Probe 0 behind her. It's trying to give her something - a slip of paper? What's wrong with this robot? She takes the paper just to get the robot to stop bothering her.

It's a pencil drawing of a trash can, sprawled alluringly on a couch. The can was evidently lovingly captured, and Hazel takes a moment to marvel at the detail of it before zooming in on a single detail: around the trash can's neck (if you could call it that) is a pure white pendant with a charm that looks like a crumpled piece of paper. There's no mistaking that iconic charm: it's the FI gemstone. She gasps.

"We have to find that trash can!"

/

They put an advertisement in the newspaper and cross their fingers. And luckily for them, they get a phone call within an hour.

"My name's Dreamy," the feminine voice on the other side of the line says. "I saw your advertisement in the paper, and I think I could help you out. The trash can in your drawing is named Trash. I'm actually Trash's neighbor. I could give you our address and let you visit, if you want."

Angel and Hazel exchange skeptical looks. This seems too good to be true. But it's the only lead they have, so they take it.

/

The good news: Dreamy wasn't lying. She really is the neighbor of a large trash can. The bad news: Said trash can is very smelly, cranky, and, well, trashy. It lives alone in a cramped, dusty house that is completely empty save for a moth-eaten sofa, which Angel and Hazel are forced to sit on, and a lit fireplace.

Luckily, Trash immediately perks up as soon as it sees the picture. "Oh my God. That's me."

"Is it really?" Hazel asks. She cuts to the chase. "So where's the FI gemstone?"

"It's gone," says Trash with a shrug. "But I could tell you about my experiences on the _Titanic_."

"I don't care about your experiences," Angel interrupts, crossing their arms. Five years. Five years of research, hard work, and groveling for funding! And this trash can really thinks that a story is worth all that?

Trash pretends to not have heard them. "They called it the ship of dreams. And it was, it really was..."

 **1912**

Ray Bunny was excited to aboard the _Titanic_. As a poor citizen, she had sold nearly everything she owned for a third class ticket. But she knew this would be worth it, and she had high hopes for what this boat would give her: a chance at a a big bright future, a chance at a brand new life, maybe even a chance at finding true love.

On the other side of the ship, Trash was the exact opposite of excited. It hated everything about sea travel - it hated the rocking floor, which was making it want to spill its contents, it hated the salty smell of the air, it hated being at the whim of things like weather and waves. (Normally Trash would be worried about sinking as well, but not on this ship. That was the one thing Trash had faith in: that the _Titanic_ was truly unsinkable.) Not to mention, it hated its life mainly because it was, well, a trash can. As a kid, it had been bullied. After he'd fought back and nearly killed one of its bullies in sixth grade, the other children had stopped bothering it. Instead, they had left it alone, but that wasn't much better. All its life, Trash had felt lonely. No one understood it. No one was like it.

Trash peered past the railing and looked at the clear blue waters below. What would it be like to jump? What would it be like to end its life? What would it be like to embrace that blissful oblivion?

/

There was just so much to explore! After dumping her single suitcase in her small third class cabin deep within the hull of the ship, Ray ran towards the deck. She explored every inch of that deck: irritating the first class citizens dressed in frills and pompous suits, peering into the captain's cabin, waving to the man above in the crow's nest. She was having lots of fun, but she hadn't encountered anything life-changing yet.

Meanwhile, Trash began to climb over the railing. It was clumsy work, especially since it was a trash can, but it managed to reach quite a height when it heard a voice -

"Don't do it."

Trash whipped around, peering at the source of the voice - a ragged, poor girl - through the tiny eyes under the rim of its lid. "Stay back! Don't come any closer."

The girl ignored it. "Take my hand. I'll pull you back in."

The protests died in Trash's throat when it saw her hand, outstretched toward it. It looked deep into the girl's eyes and suddenly saw it all. Here was the girl it had been waiting for. Here was a girl who was just like it. Here was a girl who understood because they were one and the same.

So it did. It reached down to take the girl's hand, which was very difficult as Trash didn't have a hand itself. It leaned closer and closer, and then suddenly, it lost its balance and tumbled off the railing and landed on the ground with a loud clang.

The girl snickered a bit, which wounded Trash's sensitive heart, but she helped Trash reassume a right-side-up position. "Sorry, sorry!" she said. "My name's Ray, by the way. Ray Bunny."

Ray Bunny. What a trashy name. Trash could tell that this was the start of a beautiful relationship.

/

Even though it had now been a week since they first met, Ray was still in awe of the splendor and beauty of Trash. Every time she looked over it, the light seemed to catch in its dirty metal frame in a different way. Trash wasn't just a trash can. It was a work of art.

"Can I draw you?" she blurted out, on a whim. They were currently in Trash's first class bedroom. (Trash had won the ticket by selling a pair of diamond earrings that some ninny had accidentally thrown away.)

"I'm having a bad lid day!" said Trash, squeaking as it shifted from side to side bashfully.

"I'll fix your lid, okay?" said Ray. She carefully lifted Trash's lid, which was partially attached to it, and was about to close the lid when something shiny caught her eye. She reached in and drew out a shiny ivory pendant with a charm shaped like a crumpled piece of paper.

"The same person that threw away the diamond earrings threw that away too," explained Trash. "Is my lid okay?"

Oh, right. Ray had almost forgotten about that. She lovingly adjusted Trash's lid and then went back to admiring the necklace. "It's exquisite. Do you mind if I put it on you?"

Trash gave her a slight nod, and Ray secured the long chain around Trash's body. It fit perfectly. She stepped back so that she could admire the vision Trash was, especially with that necklace. She sighed dreamily.

Trash sprawled on the couch behind them and purred seductively, "Draw me like one of your French girls."

/

There was no mistaking it. Ray Bunny was grossly, deliriously, inexplicably in love with Trash Can.

And Trash was grossly, deliriously, inexplicably in love with her.

They stood on the railing together, feeling the wind whip against their faces. Ray wrapped her arms around Trash's body, and Trash snuggled closer.

"I'm flying," it whispered.

/

A loud crash dragged Trash out of its sleep. Ray's arms were around it, so all should be good, all should be safe, and yet... all wasn't.

Panicked, it shook Ray awake. "Something's wrong," it said frantically. "I don't know what, but it's something. Something is wrong." Although bleary and confused, Ray took Trash seriously. That was one of the things Trash loved about her. Together, they made their way up to the deck.

It was even more chaotic above than it was below. The deck itself was a mess, furniture and pieces of wood scattered everywhere. The captain was shouting orders, but no one was listening. Everyone was running around in a panic, forgetting children and suitcases. Ray clung to Trash as the boat suddenly lurched. And with that lurch, everything was clear to Trash.

The unsinkable ship was sinking.

/

No one had ever imagined that the _Titanic_ would sink, so there weren't enough lifeboats.

"Women and children first! Women and children first!" one of the ship hands yelled, trying to maintain a sense of order among the chaos.

"Ray, you should go," Trash said, pushing its lover towards the lifeboats.

"Never," said Ray strongly. "Trash, I'm _not_ going on the boat unless you are too."

Trash didn't have tear ducts, but if it did, it would have cried. "Ray, my life isn't worth that much. Please - "

"Don't you dare put yourself down like that!" Ray said. "Your life is worth so much, my dearest Trash Can. You have no idea just how much you mean to me."

Trash would have said something else, but at that moment, the ship lurched again. Except this one was the last lurch. With a huge groan, the boat went down under, taking down hundreds of screaming passengers with it.

"Ray! Ray!" Trash yelled, as it felt the freezing ice water wash over it. It flailed around, trying its best to stay afloat. It didn't know how to swim! Where was Ray?

"I'm here!" it heard a faint voice yell back. Trash followed the voice, and Ray met it halfway, wrapping one shaking arm around its cold body. Its other arm was clutched onto a large piece of wood that enabled her to remain floating. She brought the piece of wood closer to Trash so that it could grip it between its lid and body. But, Trash realized, the piece of wood wasn't big enough for both of them to float. One of them would have to let go.

"I love you, Ray," said Trash, preparing to slide its way out of Ray's grasp.

Ray tightened her grasp on Trash; it was clear to her what Trash was trying to do. "Don't do it," she begged. She closed her eyes and brought back the memory of the first time they met, and she knew what she had to do. "You're going to get out of this. You're going to go on and you're going to die an old trash can, warm in your bed. Not here. Not this night. Do you understand me? Promise me. Promise me you'll never let go."

"I promise," Trash said, choking up. "But Ray - "

"I love you," Ray said, and then she let go.

 **1996**

Trash finishes its story and then, slowly, shakes off its lid and dumps out the FI, as beautiful and shiny as it was 84 years ago. And then, with an aim that Angel and Hazel would have thought impossible for a trash can, it chucks the gemstone into the roaring fire.

"What was that for?" Hazel shrieks.

"You look for treasures in the wrong place," says Trash. "Only life is priceless, and making each day count."

Angel and Hazel exchange bewildered glances, and then, they simultaneously burst into laughter. This trash can needs help. Serious help. And yet, maybe it's hit upon something important.

In the black heart of the fire, the gemstone burns, twinkling as it reflects the light of the flames, until it is nothing but ash.

* * *

"They called it the ship of dreams. And it was, it really was..." - Me talking about Trayshcan

Music to listen to while reading this: mycastiel . co . vu /post/85043055473/dear-god-i-think-were-done-here

[Angel I looked EVERYWHERE to find a Tumblr audio version just so that you could access it... smh panda]


End file.
